Till Death Do Us Part
by Lillehafrue
Summary: While enroute to another job, the boys stumble across a routine haunting. But when is anything routine for the Winchesters?
1. Chapter 1

Well, here it is. My first foray into the "Supernatural" universe. Hope you all like it!

For the record, this story was inspired by my good friend and partner in crime, GrumpyMagrat. It started out as a late night IM convo about urban legends and spiraled into this. Without her giving me all the details and other pertinent information, this story would never have happened. She's my own personal "geek-boy"! Thanks, Girlfriend!!!

Supernatural and it's chacteters belong to Kripke and Co...I only own the ones I made up. Please don't use or archive without my permission. This includes C2's.

**Any resemblance to anyone living or dead, is purely coincidental.**

* * *

"You ready to order?"

Dean Winchester looked up and smiled at the redheaded waitress next to him. "We sure are." He folded his menu and handed it to her. "I'll have a cheeseburger, medium-rare, loaded, with fries and a Coke."

She scribbled on her pad. "Got it. And you, honey?"

Sam frowned at the menu in front of him. "I'll have the Oriental chicken salad and some iced tea, please."

"No problem. It'll be ready in a few." She sauntered off, Dean watching as she disappeared into the kitchen.

"She was nice, don't you think?"

Sam followed his gaze. "Dude, she's old enough to be your mother."

Dean frowned at his brother. "I was merely commenting that she was nice. Everyone around here is pretty friendly." He nodded over towards the cash register. "Except that guy. Did you hear how he talks to his help? I'm surprised one of them hasn't tried to deck him. The jerk."

Sam shook his head wearily. "So, where are we, anyway?"

Dean leaned back in his seat. "Sylvania, Ohio. Brief pit stop on the road to...Have you got any thing lined up for us?"

Sam peered down at his laptop and sighed. "Not a thing."

Dean shrugged and looked around the restaurant. "Well then, we'll just take us a little vacation."

Sam looked up, a dumbfounded look on his face. "What did you say?"

"Going deaf there, college boy? I said we'll take a vacation. You know sleep late, see the sights." He leaned forward and smiled at his brother. "C'mon, it'll be fun." He dropped the smile from his face. "Sam, look, we could both use the break for a day or two. That last hunt was rough on both of us."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, and you weren't even the one who got thrown out the window." He winced at the memory, idly rubbing his left shoulder.

"Exactly my point." Dean's tone softened. "Sammy, you're beat; I'm not too much better. We need to do some major restocking anyway." He raised an eyebrow. "You know, it's only a few hours drive to New York. We could go pay Sarah a visit."

Sam's head snapped up. "No."

"Why not?" He leered at his brother. "You know, if you'd just get la—"

"Knock it off, Dean. I said no." Sam pushed away from the table and marched towards the restroom.

Dean sighed. He hadn't meant to piss his brother off, not this time anyway. He wasn't lying when he said the last hunt had been rough. A routine poltergeist eviction went terribly wrong, causing the brothers to quickly backpedal in order to stay alive. As it was, Sam got tossed out a second floor window before Dean could react. In the end, the boys had managed to eradicate the spirit, but not before both of them were bruised and battered.

He sighed again, unconsciously shredding his napkin. He had a nice pile of scrap in front of him when the waitress returned. "Here you go, honey."

Dean looked up and pasted a grin on his face. "Thanks, Margaret," he said, glancing at her name tag. He looked down at the plate she put in front of him. The burger was nearly the size of the plate, and it was heaped with French fries. Sam's salad was just as big. "Holy crap!"

"Well, it's more than we usually give our customers, but you boys look like you need a good meal under your belts," she said with a smile.

Sam joined them at that moment, and Dean chuckled as his brother's eyes grew wide. "Now that's a salad," Sam commented as he sat down.

Margaret chuckled. "You boys eat up now, and make sure you save room for dessert." With that, she turned to talk to another group of customers.

Dean followed her as she walked away, then grinned at his brother. "I think I'm in love."

Sam frowned. "How did you score this?" he asked, taking a bite of chicken.

Dean held up his hands in defense. "I didn't do a thing. She says we look like we could use a decent meal." He bit into his burger and closed his eyes in ecstasy. "Now I know I've died and gone to heaven." Sam merely snorted and the two made quick work of their lunch.

Dean finished first and leaned back against the booth. "Damn, that was good."

Sam nodded in agreement. "I heard they have pie for dessert."

Dean froze. "Pie?"

"Yep."

Dean groaned. "Dude, we so need to live here." Sam laughed. Dean got up and nodded towards the restroom. "Back in a sec, order me something good. Not healthy," he added as Sam merely shook his head.

When he returned a few minutes later, there was a giant piece of chocolate pie in his place. He wrapped his arms around Margaret's shoulders, "Margaret, run off into the sunset with me."

She chuckled. "Oh, sit down and eat." Shaking her head she made her way back to the kitchen.

Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother. "What?" Dean demanded, biting into the pie.

"Nothing."

Sam continued to watch him, an unreadable look on his face. Finally Dean couldn't take it any more and dropped his fork. "Will you quit staring at me!"

"I'm surprised at you, that's all."

"Why?"

Sam shrugged and glanced around. "This whole 'nice' routine. It's just a side of you that I don't see very often." He looked back down at his plate.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Aw, Sammy...are you jealous? Do you need a hug?"

Sam glared. "Bite me, Dean."

Dean merely grinned and stuffed another bite of pie in his mouth. "Oh God, peanut butter chocolate." He nodded at Sam's plate. "Whatcha got there?"

"Cherry."

Dean got an unholy gleam in his eye. "Cherry?"

Sam's fork froze halfway to his mouth. "Don't you dare," he growled.

"Oh, little brother, this one's too good to pass up. Cherry pie, huh? Bet you like cherry, eh, Sam?"

"Shut up, Dean."

But Dean was having too much fun needling his brother. "So, Sammy, want a little whipped cream to go with your cherry?"

Sam turned beet red. "So help me God, Dean, I will kill you."

"Have to catch me fir—"

"...just a ghost!"

Both brothers froze. Sam started to speak, but Dean held his hand up and they continued to listen.

"You're not going to chicken out on me, are you?" the first voice taunted.

"No, it's just that..." the second voice trailed off.

"Just what, Shawn? You're not afraid of her are you?"

"NO!"

"Then, c'mon! It's the Ghost Bride, man! Stevie saw her and said it's a rush! All we need to do is hang out at the cemetery tonight and we'll see her too!"

"Well..."

At that point, Dean dropped his fork on the floor and leaning over to pick it up, gave the area a quick glance. Behind him, at the worker's station, two teenagers stood talking. One wore the blue shirt and black pants that signified he worked there; the other seemed like a friend, leaning on the counter playing with a set of car keys. At that moment, the guy that had annoyed Dean earlier stepped forward and sent them both hopping.

Dean sat back up and raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Ghost Bride? Looks like we may have found our next job."

Sam shook his head. "Dean, that was two kids daring each other on a Saturday night. There's no ghost."

"You don't know that."

"Dean, give me a break. If there was anything around here, don't you think someone would have heard about it?" Sam persisted.

Dean shrugged and looked around thoughtfully. Then he got a smirk on his face. "Why don't we just find out?" He waved and within moments, Margaret was at their side.

"Something else I can get you boys?" she asked.

Dean smiled charmingly. "Not to eat, we're stuffed. But, I do have a question for you. What's this I hear about a ghost bride?"

Margaret shook her head. "You've been listening to Shawn and Brad." She picked up their empty plates. "I guess a bunch of them are going to camp out tonight and try and see her."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Her?"

"Why the ghost. Be right back with your check." She walked back to the counter.

Dean turned to Sam. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"A ghost, Sammy!"

Sam scowled. "Don't act so excited." He sighed. "It's probably just a local legend."

"So?"

"So! So, it's nothing! Just kids, probably drunk or stoned, seeing something that's not there!"

Dean shook his head. "I think we should check it out anyway."

"Fine." Sam closed the laptop and shoved it into his bag.

Dean sighed. "Sam, c'mon. Like I said before, we could use the break."

"You mean I could. I told you I was fine," Sam said irritably.

"I know you are! Dammit! Can't you just go with me on this one?" Dean argued.

"Do I have any choice?"

Their discussion was interrupted when Margaret appeared with their check. "Here you go, boys."

"Thanks." Dean pulled out his wallet and counted out his money. "Margaret, a quick question." He ignored Sam's irritated glare. "If we were go try and see this ghost ourselves, where would we find her?"

"Ravine Cemetery." She quickly rattled off a set of directions, which sent Dean scribbling on a napkin. "There you go. Anything else I can tell you?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, know a place we can stay? Something not too expensive?"

Margaret thought a moment. "Sure." She gave him another set of directions. "Now, I'd best get back to the kitchen. The boss doesn't like us mingling too long with the customers. Good luck tonight! There's no moon, so she should put on quite a show." She shot the man at the counter a glare then started walking away.

"Margaret, wait!" Sam called out. She turned. "How do you know that?" he asked, ignoring the kick Dean gave him under the table.

She merely smiled. "Honey, everybody knows that. We've grown up with her."

"You've seen her?" Sam persisted.

"Of course I have." She chuckled. "Sweetie, you really need to consider that there are things out there that have to been seen to believed. Go to the cemetery tonight. You'll be able to tell your grandchildren you saw a real ghost!" With that, she disappeared into the kitchen.

Sam turned to Dean, who had a wise-ass grin on his face. "Shut-up, Dean."

Dean's grin widened. "Sammy, I didn't say a thing. Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

Again, I don't own the SN characters, just the ones I made up.

* * *

It was a grumpy and irritated set of brothers who walked into the café the next morning. Both sat down at the counter with nearly identical scowls on their faces.

Margaret walked over to them. "Well look what the cat dragged in. You boys have a rough night?"

"Coffee, as strong and black as it gets," Dean grumbled.

"Same for me," Sam added.

"Coming right up." A few moments later, both were sipping mugs of the steaming hot liquid.

"So, you boys go ghost hunting last night?" Margaret asked as she handed them each a menu.

Sam merely snarled and buried his face in his menu. Dean looked up at her, his expression annoyed. "We spent the night at the cemetery and didn't see a damn thing."

"That's odd. Shawn was in here earlier babbling a mile a minute about how he and his friends got a good look at her." Margaret pulled two huge blueberry muffins out of the case and placed one in front of each of the boys. "Said they got real close to her before she disappeared. They caused quite a ruckus at the cemetery; managed to get themselves a police escort home. You boys want something besides those muffins?"

They both placed their orders and Margaret went to wait on other customers. "Dean, we are so out of here after we eat." Sam's tone brooked no argument.

"Yeah," Dean clutched his coffee in both hands, staring at it, yet not really awake. Sam leaned one elbow on the counter and resting his head on his hand, closed his eyes.

"You boys all right?" Margaret asked a few minutes later. She handed each of them their breakfast and peered at them in concern.

"We're fine, thanks," Sam answered wearily.

She shook her head, her expression doubtful. "Well, you don't look it. Looks like you've been run over by a truck. Eat up now." She wandered back into the kitchen.

Sam glanced over at his brother. Dean was eagerly cutting into his breakfast. "Dude, are those chocolate chip pancakes?"

"Yup," Dean replied, stuffing a forkful into his mouth.

"What are you, seven?"

Dean shot him a sideways look. "Better than that healthy crap you're always eating. An omelette? Pansy."

"Shut up, jerk."

"Bitch."

They continued eating in comfortable silence. Finally Dean laid his fork down and spared a glance at his brother. He frowned when he saw Sam had only eaten half his meal. "You OK?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that sounded convincing."

Sam smiled thinly. "I'm just tired."

"How's the shoulder?" Dean persisted.

"Fine." Sam took a last bite of omelette and pushed his plate away. "Let's just get going. I'll sleep in the car."

Dean nodded, unconvinced. "Whatever you say, Sammy." He waved and Margaret walked over to them.

"Anything else?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope, we're good." He flashed her his trademark grin. "Sorry we missed seeing your ghost."

She chuckled. "I'm sure you are." She paused and looked up him. "You know I've been thinking. You didn't see a thing? Not even the cops?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing."

"I wonder if you were in the wrong cemetery," she mused.

Dean sat up straight. "Wrong cemetery?"

Sam shook his head. "We followed your directions."

"Hmmm..." She frowned in thought a moment, then looked up in surprise. "I'll bet you were in St. Joseph's!"

"St. Joseph's?" Dean questioned.

She nodded. "There are two cemeteries on Ravine Road. You mustn't have gone far enough to get to Ravine."

Dean's eyes lit up and Sam glared. "No. No way, Dean. We're leaving, remember?"

Dean brushed his brother off with a wave. "So think she'll be around tonight?" Sam merely groaned and put his head in his hands.

Margaret nodded. "I'm sure she will be. She's there most nights, just easier to see when there's no moon."

Dean grinned. "Great." He handed her the bill and some cash. "Keep the change. We'll be in tomorrow and let you know how it went."

She nodded. "How about I make you a couple of sandwiches to take with you tonight? Be just a sec." She hurried off and Dean turned to his brother.

"Dude!"

Sam looked up and scowled. "Two cemeteries? Isn't _that_ convenient."

Dean shook his head. "Hey, you're the one with the fancy equipment. I can't help it if your little GPS thingy didn't tell us there were two."

Sam felt a headache building behind his eyes. "Dammit, Dean. I've got a really bad feeling about this whole thing."

Dean frowned. "Like a 'Shining' type feeling?"

"Not funny."

"Wasn't trying to be." He shrugged and got to his feet. "Fine, we'll pack up and go. Who cares if this ghost starts upping her act?" He started towards the door. "Grab the sandwiches; we might as well eat them on the road." A moment later he was out the door.

Sam sighed to himself and after thanking Margaret for the breakfast, and taking the bag of sandwiches, followed his brother. Dean was sitting in the driver's seat of the Impala, AC DC blasting out of the speakers. Sam got in on the passenger side and turned down the music. "Fine, Dean. We'll stay another night."

Dean nodded in reply, then turned the radio back up and tore out of the parking lot. They drove in silence all the way back to the motel. He parked the car and without waiting for Sam, went into their room. Sam followed a few moments later, finding the room empty, but hearing the shower. He sighed and flopped down on the bed farthest from the door. He was nearly asleep when he heard the bathroom door open.

Dean glanced over at his brother's prone form and frowned. "Hey there, Sleeping Beauty, the shower's all yours."

Sam nodded and sat up. He pressed his hand to the bridge of his nose. "On second thought, I think I'll just crash first.

Dean rummaged through his bad and pulled out a pair of jeans. Slipping them on, he walked over to Sam and peered down at him. "Sammy?"

"Sam." He looked up through bleary eyes. "It's OK, Dean. I just need some sleep."

"You sure? No vision or anything?"

"No, just a run of the mill headache." He lay back down. "I'll be fine in a couple of hours."

"If you're sure." Dean grabbed a shirt and put it on. "I'll go get us re-supplied and see what I can do about our cash situation. Saw a bar on the other side of town that looked promising."

Sam cracked his eyes open. "Want me to go with you?"

"Nah, you stay put and rest. Can't have you all woozy for the ghost tonight." Dean grinned. "Sleep well, Princess."

"Screw you, Dean."

With a chuckle, Dean left the room and the last thing Sam heard before falling asleep, was the rumble of the Impala's engine, fading in the distance.

* * *

Dean hummed along to the radio as he scanned the cemetery. "See anything yet?"

Sam's eyes scanned the area around them. "Nothing." He glanced down at his watch. "It's nearly two. I hope she shows up soon," he yawned as he said it.

Dean shot him a wry glance. "Aww, are you still sleepy?"

"Shut up."

Dean laughed and looked around as well. "Seriously, how's the head?"

"Good. Headache's gone. I just needed some sleep in a real bed as opposed to being pretzeled up in this thing," Sam replied fidgeting.

Dean frowned and patted the Impala's steering wheel. "Don't listen to him, baby. He doesn't love you like I do."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You...never mind." They continued watching out the windows. Nearly an hour had passed when Sam spoke again. "Dean, we've been here half the night. I don't think she's going to show."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I think we've been had. We might as well pack up and..." The both started as the radio began to splutter and die. At the same time, the EMF meter next to Dean began to flash and beep wildly. Dean looked up at his brother. "Show time." Grabbing his shotgun, Dean stepped out of the car, Sam following at the same time. The both moved forward, warily watching the area around them.

Suddenly Sam pointed. "There."

Dean followed Sam's gaze. "Got her." He pumped his gun and moved forward. As they got closer to the trees, the EMF meter began to beep again. "I'd say we're close."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. They moved forward again, watching for any sign of the ghost. Suddenly a vague form appeared in front of them. Sam got a glimpse of a melancholy looking woman, with long dark hair, wearing a white dress. "Dean..." Sam called out. The ghost moved forward, and he took an instinctive step backwards, bringing his own gun to bear. The ghost came within a foot or two of Sam and stopped. Then she let out a long, heart wrenching wail and disappeared.

The two brothers shot each other a baffled look. "What the hell was that?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "She showed up in front of me, freaked out and disappeared."

"What'd you say to her?"

"I didn't say anything!"

"Sure..." They cautiously moved through the cemetery, senses on alert for anything out of the ordinary. After a few minutes of prowling in the dark, Dean shook his head. "Well, whatever you did scared her off pretty good."

"I didn't do anything, Dean!" Sam said, exasperated. He shouldered his gun and marched back towards the car.

After one last sweep of the area, Dean followed his brother. "You know," he called out. "Maybe it was just your face that scared her off. You didn't see her reacting like that when she saw me. She's obviously a ghost with good taste."

Sam glared at his older brother. "You're such a jerk."

"I know." He grinned.

Sam whirled. "You know, I'm getting tired of all your wiseas—" Before either of them could react, both brothers were knocked to the ground, then Sam was picked up thrown into the air, slamming hard against one of the taller monuments.

"Sam!" Dean scrambled to his feet and ran towards his brother. Sam was pressed against the stone, and he could see the ghost holding his brother's throat in her grasp. "SAM! Drop!! I can't get a clear shot!"

"C—Can't..." Sam rasped. He desperately tried to free himself from her grasp, but could feel her tighten her grip. Darkness began to dance along the edges of his vision. "D-Dean..."

**BOOM!!**

The cement next to Sam's head was showered with rock salt as the ghost let out a scream and vanished. Sam dropped to his knees, gasping for breath.

Dean was at his side in a heartbeat. "Sam! You OK?" he asked, one hand on his brother's shoulder, the other on his gun. Sam could only nod. Dean frowned in concern. "I think she's gone for the time being. We need to get out of here before she comes back or someone calls the cops." He hauled Sam to his feet. "C'mon, let's go." He half led, half dragged his brother back to the car.

A short time later, they were back at their hotel. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, Dean checking his head and eyes. "No concussion, but you have a nice sized lump there." He pressed an ice pack to the back of Sam's head.

Sam winced. "Yeah, no kidding," he said hoarsely.

Dean frowned and turned his attention to Sam's neck. He could clearly see the finger shaped bruises forming there. "Damn, Sammy, she got you good."

Sam merely nodded and nudging his brother away, got unsteadily to his feet. He gently rotated his left shoulder, grimacing. "Why'd she attack me?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know." He sat down on his bed and began cleaning his shotgun. "But I'll tell you one thing; that bitch isn't going to touch you or anyone else ever again."


	3. Chapter 3

Hope you're all still enjoying it! Again, I don't own 'em, so please don't sue.

**Any resemblance to anyone living or dead, is purely coincidental.**

* * *

Sam sighed as he closed the book. He'd been pouring through books since before lunch, trying to come across any information regarding the Ghost Bride. So far all he'd found were a few vague references of a cemetery haunting, but noting concrete. He closed his eyes and rolled his neck, trying to loosen the muscles, stretching his shoulder out at the same time. Anything to try and get rid of the ache permeating his body.

"Hey there, Sammy. Find anything?"

Sam opened his eyes to find his brother looking down at him. He shook his head as Dean sat down next to him. "Nothing. Not even a name at this point." His voice still sounded hoarse from last night's events.

Dean frowned. "Hmmm...I checked with some of the locals. There's no indication of the Ghost Bride, as she's known around here, attacking anyone. She's usually pretty benign. Just a quick glimpse in the cemetery." He pulled one of the books towards him. "Margaret did say the rumor was that she was married three times, and after she died, her family didn't know where to plant her, so that's why she haunts the graveyard. Eternally looking for her dead husbands."

Sam glared at his brother. "Margaret? You were at the Café?"

Dean smirked and nodded. "Yep. Figured it was the perfect place to get information."

Sam leaned back in his chair. "So let me get this straight; while I've been here working my butt off, starving I might add, you've been seated at the Café eating pie and chatting with your girlfriend?" There was more than a touch of anger to Sam's tone.

Dean met his brother's glare fearlessly. "First off she's not my girlfriend. Second it was strawberry shortcake, not pie. And third, what the hell crawled up you ass? You always handle the research, I'm more...hands on."

"I'll bet you are," Sam mumbled under his breath.

"Sam." Dean waited until Sam looked up at him. "What's really bugging you?"

Sam rubbed his head wearily. "Why me, Dean? If she's never gone after anyone, why me?"

"No idea, pal. That's what we have to find out." He got to his feet. "C'mon, let's head back to the motel and do some searching there. A change of scenery will do you some good."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

"Dude, I'm always right!" Dean grinned devilishly. "Besides, Margaret sent you some pansy-ass tomato-dill soup."

Sam smiled thinly. "Thanks." He cleared his throat, idly rubbing at it. "Let's get out of here." He stood and put his laptop in the bag, then started stacking the books neatly.

"Mr. Mansfield?" Sam looked up to find the elderly librarian standing next to him, an armful of books with her. "I found a few more books that might help you. They were written around World War One, so you're bound to find some information for your thesis there." She smiled at him, her wrinkly face filled with pleasure. "It's so nice to see young people taking an interest in history."

Dean smiled tightly. "Isn't it though."

Sam quickly stepped forward and took the books. "Thank-you, Mrs. Mills."

Dean waited until the woman had gone back to her desk then patted Sam's shoulder. "Looks like I'm not the only one with a girlfriend."

"Jerk."

"Bitch. I take it we're not going back to the motel?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "We might as well go through some of this stuff."

Together the brothers started pouring through the books. An hour later, Sam stiffened. "Dean, I think I've found something. Listen to this:

_Nellie __Langenderfer and William Anderson __were married today at the United Church of Christ. Mr. Anderson is the owner of Anderson Mercantile in Sylvania. This is his second marriage. Mrs. Langenderfer formerly resided at the home of her first husband, Secor Farm. This is her third marriage."_

Sam looked up. "That has to be her."

Dean nodded. "Sounds like it could be. Now that we have a name, let's see what else we find." He opened another book. "Bingo. A Horace Secor passed away in 1897 of wasting disease." He looked up at Sam. "What's that?"

Sam shrugged. "That was the standard diagnosis when the doctor's didn't know what ailed patients. Today they think it was cancer or leukemia."

"Huh." Dean went back to reading. "Mr. Secor leaves his young wife of seven months, Nellie. So we have husband numbers one and three. What about two?"

Sam shook his head. "Keep looking. Try these." He handed his brother a pile of old newspaper clippings.

"Got a Jesse Langenderfer here. Married a Nellie Secor in fall of 1897." Dean frowned. "Seems our Nellie waited a mere three months before opening door number two."

Sam peered over at the clipping. "She didn't play the part of the grieving widow for very long."

"Nope." Dean frowned. "And dear Jesse died in his sleep less than two years later."

"When did she marry William?"

"Within six months." Dean looked up. "Dude, think she killed them?" He grinned wolfishly.

"Who knows?" Sam shrugged. "Here's a picture." He held out the photo for Dean to look at. It showed a young woman in a white dress standing next to an older man in a suit. They appeared to be in front of a church.

"Looks like Horace was quite a bit older than her. Arranged marriage?" Dean looked closer. "That could be her; I was too far away to see. Did you get a good look at her?" He put the photo down and rifled through the rest of the papers.

"Dean, she was inches from my face, choking the life out of me. Yeah, I got a good look." Sam shook his head. "This still doesn't explain why she attacked me?"

"Oh, I think I figured it out." Dean pushed another photo towards Sam.

Sam went pale as he stared at the picture. Then he looked up, his hazel eyes wide. "Dean, it's me."

* * *

Dean looked over at the sleeping form of his brother. It wasn't often Sam was able to sleep these days, and Dean was just grateful he was able to do it now. _Of course the painkillers I made him swallow might be helping with that, _Dean thought to himself.

Dean took a long swallow of beer and shuffled through the papers again. Sam had asked for copies of some of the articles and Mrs. Mills, the librarian, was happy to oblige. Once back at the motel, they spread the stuff all over the table and walls, trying to piece together Nellie's life. So far all they had discovered was that she was married at sixteen, became a widow that same year, married again, lost that husband less than two years later and once again rushed into marriage. That one lasted nearly five years but they had yet to find out what happened to her after that.

He glanced up as Sam mumbled in his sleep. After a moment, Sam settled and Dean turned his attention back to the papers. He had kidded with his brother about Nellie having killed her husbands, and after looking over the articles more closely, he was starting to think that theory might be correct. His eyes skimmed over the picture they had found today. He was still a little freaked out over the resemblance Sam had to the late Jesse Langenderfer.

Dean leaned back in the chair and took another long pull from his bottle. A simple side-trip to restock and rest had turned into something neither of them expected. And Dean, in good conscience, couldn't leave with things the way they were now.

He tossed the empty bottle into the trash and grabbed another. He turned on the television, setting the volume on low, and tried not to think about what a psychotic ghost would want with his brother.

* * *

He leaned on the pitchfork and surveyed the land in front of him. The corn was coming up fine, and the second crop of hay was nearly ready to cut. The oats were a little slow, but should be ready before the first frost hit. By now his wife must be nearly done canning the vegetables she picked this morning. It was time to call it a day.

He stowed his tools in the barn and gave the livestock food and water, then made his way into the house. He was right. A roast chicken was sitting on the table, surrounded by new potatoes and fresh green beans. His wife smiled at him and they sat down and shared a comfortable easy meal together. The potatoes tasted a little funny, but they both knew he didn't marry her for her cooking. Afterwards, he sat in the parlor listening as his wife read out loud. Too soon he felt himself nodding off and went up to bed. His wife decided to stay up a little longer to finish the blanket she was knitting. He kissed her on the forehead and went upstairs to bed. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep.

He awoke sometime later, unsure what was happening. Everything seemed to be out of focus. He tried to sit up and discovered he was unable to move. He tried to speak, but his voice didn't seem to be working either. His mind whirled in panic, then calmed when his wife moved into view. She smiled down at him. She picked up a pillow and held it in her hands. With a whispered, "I'm sorry," she pressed it over his face. He tried to push her off, free himself, but to no avail. He still couldn't move.

"_Sam!"_

The pillow pressed tighter against his face. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he struggled to breathe.

"_SAM!"_

He felt himself drifting away. Suddenly, air didn't seem very important any more. His mind drifted into darkness, his last thoughts wondering why Nellie had killed him.

Sam bolted awake, his breath coming in heaving gasps. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, both hands on Sam's shoulders, shaking him. "D-Dean?" he rasped.

"Jesus, Sammy! What happened? Was it a vision?" Dean demanded.

Sam shook his head. "I don't...I don't think so."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean you don't think so? You'd think by now you'd've figured out the difference between a vision and a nightmare." He pushed himself off the bed and paced the room, his expression icy. "Well?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed, putting his head in his hands. "She killed him," he said softly, once his heart had settled down to normal.

"What?"

Sam looked up at his brother. "Nellie, she killed him."

"Killed who?"

"The second husband, Jesse. She drugged his dinner then smothered him with a pillow."

Dean raised one eyebrow. "And you know this...how?"

Sam got to his feet, running his hand through his hair. "I...I think I was him. Just now. In my nightmare. I felt like I was living the whole thing." He looked up with haunted eyes. "Dean, what's wrong with me?"

Dean shook his head. "Loaded question there, Sammy." He walked the edges of the room, checking the salt lines at the door and windows. "OK, whatever happened, it wasn't Nellie."

"What was it then?"

"Don't know." He looked over at his brother again. "Maybe it was nothing more than a nightmare."

"So I dreamed up this whole thing? Are you saying I'm going nuts?" Sam snapped, his color starting to come back.

"I never said that. I'm just saying she couldn't get in here. She can't hurt you, Sam."

"Oh yeah? She sure as hell just did a good impression of it."

Dean bit back the retort on his tongue as Sam marched into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Dean sat down at the table and pulled out two bottles of beer. Waiting He set one down in front of the laptop, and took a long pull from the other. Sam emerged a few minutes later and sat down next to him. Dean watched as his brother played with the bottle, but didn't drink. "So," he said when the silence had gone on too long. "You done with your little temper tantrum?" Sam just shot him a dirty look. Dean nodded. "Good. Then let's get to work. What happened?"

Sam described his dream with as much detail as he could remember. When he finished he took a long swallow of beer, his hands shaking.

Dean frowned. "Something's not right about this."

"You think?"

Dean ignored the jibe. "Think about it, Sam. Nutty Nellie tried to kill you, not me, at the cemetery. Then tonight you have a freaky dream where you're her dead husband?" He shook his head. "Dude, that's not normal, even for ghosts."

Sam's forehead furrowed in thought. "Think she's trying to tell us something?"

"Not her, him. Jesse."

"Jesse?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I mean, we guessed she had offed them all, but now we know for sure. I'm thinking she saw you and freaked out, thinking Jesse was coming back for some sort of revenge."

Sam looked skeptical. "So let me get this straight. We've got a murdering ghost who came after me because I look like her dead husband. And you think the husband shows up in my dreams to prove to us that she did kill him." He shook his head. "Dean, just what are we supposed to do about this?"

Dean leaned back in his chair. "Why, salt and burn the bitch of course." He cracked a grin and finished off his beer in one gulp.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks again to Grumpy for her help with this story. And thanks to all who've read and/or reviewed. As usual, I don't own SN or its characters, just the ones I invented.

**Any resemblance to anyone living or dead, is purely coincidental.**

* * *

Dean fidgeted as he looked around the sterile looking office. "How people can sit in one of these day after day is beyond me. I'd kill myself."

"I'd salt and burn you," Sam shot back without missing a beat.

Before Dean could reply, a woman walked over to them. "Hello. I'm Lucy Anderson-Kaiser. How can I help you?"

Sam and Dean got to their feet. "I'm Sam Mansfield and this is my friend Dean. We're students at the University of Toledo, doing a paper for a Cultural Anthropology class. We're researching prominent Ohio founding families. Since the Anderson family has run some sort of retail business for the last hundred and fifty years, we wanted to talk to you about it."

Dean tried not to stare at his brother. He smiled toothily at Lucy. "Yeah, so anything you'd like to share with us would be a big help."

She motioned them to sit back down as she took a seat. "Well, as you said, my family has been in retail since the 1840's. Over the generations, the business has changed with the times, for instance, during the Depression we carried less expensive products. And instead of paying our employees, they were allowed to take from the store."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "That's very interesting. What can you tell me about..." he glanced down at the notebook in his hands. "William Anderson."

"Ah, Uncle William. He took over the business in the early 1900's. He was one of seven children."

"Seven?" Dean let out a low whistle.

Sam shot him a look. "Well, I understand he was the one who opened the first satellite store, here in Sylvania? Before that the business was based out of Toledo proper, wasn't it?"

"That's correct. William opened a store here when he married his second wife," Lucy told them.

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. "And her name would be?" Sam asked.

"Nellie Langenderfer, also known as Nellie Secor. She was a bit of a scandal around these parts. Uncle William was her third husband. That sort of thing just wasn't done in those days," Lucy said solemnly.

Dean smirked. "How I love a fallen woman."

Sam rolled his eyes and ignored his brother. "So he opened the store here in town. Then what happened?"

Lucy settled herself more comfortably. "Things went well. The store did better than expected here. Back then, Sylvania was still a farming community. Most people traded among themselves, or did without."

"But the store succeeded?" Dean asked.

She nodded. "It did indeed. And after William died, it thrived even more. Something morbid about shopping near a death scene."

"Death scene?" Sam questioned.

"Oh yes, Uncle William drowned while fishing in the stream behind the store."

"Drowned? Are you sure."

Lucy nodded again. "Yes, quite sure. He and two of his brothers, George and Thomas, were fishing out back. It had rained heavily a few days before and the river was quite high. William had waded out a little further than the others and got swept away from the current. They found his body a few days later, caught downstream in the millrace."

"That's terrible," Sam said.

"What happened to Nellie?" Dean asked.

Lucy's expression softened. "Well, the locals said she went mad. She had no children you see, not even from her previous marriages. Her parents had died a few years before and now that William was gone, she was alone. She pined for William. Stopped eating, bathing...they finally found her hanging from a tree at the farmhouse, wearing her wedding dress."

"Where did they bury her?" Dean asked.

Lucy looked startled. "We were wondering because we're planning on taking some pictures of the graves," Sam intervened smoothly. "She's probably with William, right?"

To their surprise, Lucy shook her head. "Actually, no. The local townspeople argued over where to inter her. They hated to have to choose between her three husbands."

"Terrific..." Dean muttered.

Sam elbowed him. "So where is she then?"

Lucy shook her head. "No one knows." She glanced down at her watch. "Well, gentlemen, that's all the time I have today. I hope this helps you with your paper." She got to her feet.

Sam shook her hand. "It will help very much. Thank-you, Ms. Kaiser." They turned and headed outside, not speaking until they reached the Impala.

Dean started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. "Well, that helped."

Sam frowned. "At least we know we're dealing with the right ghost."

"Yeah, too bad we don't know where they planted her," Dean retorted. He shook his head. "This whole thing sucks."

"Yeah well, I was the one who wanted to leave. You insisted on staying and checking things out," Sam shot back.

Dean merely scowled and the two drove in silence. "I say we check out the farm first. If it was a family place, she's probably there. We know she's not with the husbands."

Sam sighed and nodded. "Then when we find her, we can come back tonight and finish the job."

* * *

"Well, that was helpful," Dean muttered sarcastically as they drove back into town.

"At least we know where she's not," Sam replied.

"Yeah, but that was two hours of my life I'm never going to get back." He shot a look at Sam. "Don't tell me you enjoyed that nostalgic look at early farm life." Sam merely chuckled. Dean sighed. "We've still got some daylight left. I say we scope out the graveyard. When we find her, we'll come back tonight to salt and burn."

A short time later, both brothers were scouring the older graves at the cemetery. "Hey, Sammy! I found something!" Dean called out.

Sam shouldered the shovel he was carrying, and hurried to his brother's side to read the stone.

_Jesse Langenderfer_

_Born 10 August 1873_

_Died 27 July 1899_

"Dude, it's you!" Dean grinned.

"Ha, ha. Very funny, Dean." Sam scowled and marched away.

"Aw, c'mon. Lighten up, Sammy!" Dean grinned as Sam shot him the finger.

The two continued looking until nightfall. Sighing, Dean pulled out a flashlight. "She has to be here. This is where her husbands are buried, it makes sense!" He glanced around. "Look, I passed a cemetery office on our way in. I'll go see what I can find there." He looked questionably at Sam. "You gonna be OK on your own?"

Sam snorted. "Dean, I'm not ten. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, but what if your girlfriend shows up again?"

"Screw you. Besides, according to the locals, she doesn't show up until after midnight. The sooner we find her, the sooner we get this over with. Go." Sam waved his brother away. Dean shook his head and getting into the car, headed back towards the gate.

Sam was still searching an hour later. He had found Horace Secor's grave, but still no sign of Nellie. His cell phone rang and he quickly answered. "Find anything?"

"_Yeah, got us a Nellie Anderson buried in the way back of the place, near the trees,"_ Dean told him.

"I'll meet you there."

"_Watch your back, Sam."_

Sam rolled his eyes. "Bye, Dean." He hung up and made his way over to the section his brother had told him. The stones were much older here, some dating back to the Civil War. He scanned the area, his flashlight highlighting a stone set apart from the others, surrounded by a small grove of trees. "Hello, Nellie," he said softly.

He stared at the grave for a few moments, propping his flashlight on a nearby stone, and began to dig.

Sam hadn't gotten very deep when his flashlight began to flicker. His head snapped up as it went out. "Damn..." Belatedly realizing he was unarmed, he shouldered the shovel and glanced around warily. A sudden gust of wind nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Jesse..."

Sam whirled, brandishing the shovel out in front of him. The air shimmered in front of him and solidified. "Jesse..." Nellie, still in her tattered gown, held her hands out to him.

Sam shook his head. "Nellie, I'm not Jesse."

Nellie moved towards him. "You're dead, Jesse. I killed you."

Sam stepped back, still wielding the shovel. "I'm not Jesse."

Suddenly her eyes shifted and grew cold. "I'll have to kill you again." She disappeared.

"That can't be good..." Sam's eyes scanned the area for any moment. "Dean, where the hell are you?" he muttered.

Suddenly, Nellie appeared in front of him, her hands reaching for his throat. Sam swung the shovel, the iron blade cutting through the ghost. She wavered for a moment, then vanished. Breathing heavily, Sam didn't relax his grip as he watched the Impala's headlights coming towards him.

Dean frowned as he stepped out of the car. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Nellie. She came after me again," Sam replied.

Dean reached back in the car and grabbed a shotgun. He tossed it to Sam, who caught it deftly, then took another for himself. "Let's do this."

Together they both started digging; pausing each time a stray sound reached them. When they had dug to their waists, Sam climbed out of the hole and shuddered. "Dean, I don't like this," he said, looking around the graveyard.

Dean looked up from his digging. "Don't like what?"

Sam shook his head. "I hit her with the shovel. You know as well as I do that that shouldn't have kept her away this long."

"Yeah, you're right." He glanced around. "Keep going, we're almost there." They both resumed their digging. Their flashlights flickered. Dean's head snapped up. "Show time."

Both brothers climbed out of the hole and aimed their shotguns. "C'mon...where are you..." Dean stepped back from Sam. Nellie chose that moment to strike. Both men where thrown backwards, losing their weapons. Dean slammed hard against one of the monuments, falling to the ground and laying still.

"Dean!" Sam got to his feet and rushed towards his brother. Nellie materialized in front of him.

"Jesse..." She moved towards Sam.

"I'm not Jesse!" he shouted, backing away from her. He found himself pinned up against a tall stone.

Nellie moved in close. "Jesse..." she breathed as she fastened her lips on his.

Sam tried to pull away, but found himself responding to her despite his revulsion. He barely noticed Nellie moving her hands across his chest, through his hair. She stepped back to look at him. "Nellie, wait...I'm not Jesse. Jesse's dead," Sam told her.

Behind them, Dean began to stir. He forced himself awake and searched for his brother through bleary eyes. He found Sam just as Nellie moved in again. Dean reached for his gun.

Before he could fire, Sam let out a strangled scream and dropped to his knees. Nellie grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back, allowing Dean to see the deep scratches along Sam's cheek. Snarling, he grabbed his gun and fired.

The salt shot missed and Nellie turned her angry gaze on him. "Oh, crap..." He scrambled to his feet as Nellie moved towards him, her eyes flashing dangerously. He quickly pumped his shotgun and fired again. This time he hit the ghost and with a shriek, she faded away. Dean rushed to his brother's side. "Sam!"

Sam was curled up on his knees, breathing heavily. He moaned. "D-Dean..."

"Easy, bro, I got her. Where'd she get you?" Dean asked, trying to help Sam straighten up.

Sam took another shuddering breath, and leaned against a grave marker. The blood dripped down his face. "She still thinks...I'm Jesse. She wants me...dead."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I kind of figured that." He then noticed where Sam's hands were clenched. "Dude...she didn't..."

"Yeah, she did," Sam replied through clenched teeth.

Dean bit his lip to try and keep from laughing. It didn't work.

Sam glared angrily at his brother. "It's not funny."

"Oh yeah it is! Sammy! You got molested by a ghost!" Dean burst out laughing.

"You suck." Sam struggled to his feet and limped back to the half dug grave.

Dean followed, picking up Sam's gun and tossing it to him. "Here," he said, taking the shovel out of his brother's hands. "I'll do that. You just watch our backs...and everything else."

"Bite me."

"Sorry, Sammy, you're not my type." He climbed back down and continued to dig. Sam searched the area, wary for any sign of movement.

A few minutes later there was the unmistakable sound of metal on wood. "Jackpot," Dean muttered, glancing up at Sam. "We good?" Sam nodded. Dean forcefully pounded the shovel on the coffin. The ancient wood splintered and Sam shined the flashlight down into it, illuminating Nellie's skeleton. Dean looked up, grinning. "Now the fun begins." He hoisted himself up and began rummaging through his duffle bag.

"DEAN!" Without a moment's hesitation, Dean dropped to the ground, hearing the blast of the shotgun a heartbeat later. He glanced up. "Did you get her?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so, but I'm not sure where she went." He met Dean's eyes. "She's not going to let us do this."

"Sam..."

"I'll lead her off. Finish the job before she finishes me." Sam dropped the gun at his brother's feet, then turned and ran in the opposite direction.

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean quickly dug the salt canister out of his bag. He poured it over the remains, then turned for the gasoline. Before he could grab it, he was thrown off his feet. He groaned. "So much for Plan A."

"Nellie! Nellie, over here!" Dean lifted his head at the sound of his brother's voice. He saw Sam in the distance, waving his arms. "I thought you killed me, Nell. Going to have to do better than that!" he shouted.

Dean watched as Nellie let out a scream and vanished. He quickly got to his feet and doused the grave with gas. Reaching into his pocked for his lighter, he groaned. It was gone. Diving back into the duffle, he came up empty again. Cursing, his mind whirled as he tried to come up with an idea.


	5. Chapter 5

Here you go!

**Any resemblance to anyone living or dead, is purely coincidental.**

* * *

Sam weaved his way through the cemetery, praying Nellie would follow him and leave Dean to salt and burn her bones. So, he wasn't totally surprised when she popped up in front of him.

"Jesse..."

Sam quickly back pedaled, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and Dean. Nellie followed, keeping him in sight.

"You have to die, Jesse..."

"You'll have to catch me first!" Sam spun, trying to keep away from her, but she reappeared in front of him, her hands griping his throat. He clawed desperately at her, but couldn't get free. She shoved him against a tall stone, whacking his head against the cement. Dazed, his hands fell limply to his side as Nellie tightened her grip.

"Dean..." Sam gasped out, his vision graying out around the edges.

"Good-bye again, Jesse. Stay dead this time." Nellie increased the pressure and Sam felt his legs give out on him.

"Nellie, stop."

Through dimming eyesight, Sam saw Nellie turn. Then her hands fell from his neck and he dropped to his knees, gulping in breaths of air. Sensing movement, he glanced up. His blood froze as another form materialized in front of Nellie. _Uh oh..._He tried to get to his feet, but was still too dizzy. The ghost solidified into an older man, dressed in farmer clothes.

"Horace...no...You're dead..." Nellie gasped.

He took a step towards her. "Yes, I am. You killed me."

"I had to." She turned her attention back to Sam, who had finally gotten to his feet. "Jesse, I'm sorry."

"Not...Jesse..." Sam rasped. He held his hands up weakly, trying to fend her off. She moved closer, once again clasping him around the throat.

"No, Nellie, not again." Another form appeared. This one looking eerily like Sam.

Again she paused. "Jesse..." She gazed in confusion from his face to Sam's. "No...I don't understand..." She backed away, and Sam slumped to the ground again.

"Why, Nellie?" Jesse asked, moving towards her. "I loved you."

"I loved you, too," Horace added.

Nellie shook her head and let out a low moan. "No..." She turned her attention back to Sam.

Sam tried to get away from her, but the world was still spinning crazily around him. She loosened one hand and raked it through his hair. "Good-bye..." She pulled his head back. Sam closed his eyes and waited for his neck to snap.

"Get your hands off him, bitch!"

Nellie whirled to see Dean standing behind her, shotgun at the ready. She smiled and turned back to Sam. Only another form emerged in front of her. She stepped back, her eyes wide. "William..."

"Let him go, Nellie." The ghost held out his hand. "Come with me."

She shook her head. "No...No, I can't." Turning she faced her other husbands. "I can't!!" Suddenly her expression changed and she looked down, then up at Dean. "NOOOO!!!" She spun back towards Sam. "I'll kill you!!" She took one step, then burst into flames and was gone.

Silence echoed across the graveyard. Dean turned to the three other ghosts. "You guys going to cause trouble now?" Instead of replying, they just faded away. "Guess I told them." Dean hurried to his brother's side. "You OK, Sammy?"

Sam nodded. "Took you...long enough..." he rasped hoarsely.

"Hey, what can I say? I like to make an entrance. Let's get you up." He hoisted Sam to his feet, frowning as he watched Sam sway dizzily. "Sam?"

Sam shook his head to clear it. "I'm OK." He took a halting few steps. "You burned her? She's gone for good?"

Dean nodded. "Yep." They started walking towards the car. "Got hairy for a while there. No lighter. No matches."

Sam froze in mid-step. "What?"

"Am I not speaking English?" Dean started forward again. "Must have lost my lighter in the scuffle and no matches in the bag."

Sam limped forward, catching up with his brother. "So what did you do?"

Dean shrugged. "I improvised. Found one of those red candles on a grave and tossed that in. She went up like a torch."

Sam groaned. "You used an eternal flame to fry a ghost?"

"Hey, it worked." Dean grinned as they reached the car. He shook his head. "I'll be glad to put this one in the rearview," he said as they both got in the Impala.

"You won't miss the pie?" Sam shot back.

Dean looked blandly at his brother. "You know, when we find Dad, he's going to love hearing how you got felt up then taken down by a ghost."

Sam's face went pale then red. "Dad's not going to hear a thing about it," He said through clenched teeth.

"Sure he's not."

Sam reached over and turned on the radio, effectively ending any further conversation. The bluesy tones of the Eagles' "Witchy Woman" poured from the speakers.

Sam glared as Dean chuckled and gunning the engine, they drove off down the road.

FINIS

* * *

And so ends yet another chapter of the Winchester boys. Until they find another trouble spot...or it finds them...

A big HUGEMONGUS (my daughter's word) THANK-YOU goes to Grumpy, for without her, this story would never have happened. It started off as a goofy late night IM conversation on local ghosts and urban legends, then turned into what you've just read. While many of the places are real, the people used are not...Well, most of them anyway...;) Anywho, Grumpy was my own personal "Geek-Sam" for this, getting me local maps, cememteries, restaurants, names, you name it, she was there! Even suggested getting a bag of peanut M & M's as Dean bait when the boys got too quiet. So Grumpy! THANKS!!!!!!!

Glad you all enjoyed my first foray into the "Supernatural" universe. Hopefully it won't be my last.

Lillehafrue


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